


Give and Take

by blunted_edge



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: F/M, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-14
Updated: 2014-04-14
Packaged: 2018-01-19 08:19:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1462339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blunted_edge/pseuds/blunted_edge
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>"That night... I can't stop thinking about it."</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"Well, then I'll see you later."</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"That was direct."</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"Thought I'd get straight to the point. Were you expecting flowers or something?"</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"Don't be absurd."</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"Then I'll see you tonight."</em>
</p>
<p>A glimpse into a growing relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Give and Take

"Oh." The exclamation is soft and falls from her lips like a sigh. Her expression is most definitely pleased and her gaze lingers on his shoulders and arms like she's drinking a fine wine with her eyes.

Fenris refuses to let himself curl in his shoulders and hunch over. He doesn't want to fall into old habits and bring in ghosts that have no business here. He tells himself that he shouldn't be ashamed like she tries to advise him to be, but his body doesn't feel like his own so often--

"Mmm, I love freckles. I didn't think you had them!" She steps closer (slowly, he notices with a twinge of annoyance, like he's feral) and lowers her mouth to his shoulder to bestow a chaste kiss on a patch of freckles. Her generous breasts brush up against his upper arm. Discarding his tunic on the floor, Fenris slides his thumb against the underside of one and inhales the scent of her unbound hair, trying to focus on her instead of himself. She smells like sea salt, whiskey, and a faintly sweet, mellow scent that's unknown to him.

Isabela makes another low, pleased noise. She tilts her head back towards him and looks him in the eyes as she runs her palms up from his hips to his ribs. Calluses catch against the thick and tightly-bound cloth around his chest.

"I have more," Fenris manages past a dry throat, his voice hitching strangely. "Freckles. To see." He's painfully aware of his body in this moment, painfully aware of how he's tried to do this with her before and ended up with most of his clothes on and his face between her legs.

He wants to do this. He _does_. He wants to feel something other than his brands and Isabela wants to help. It doesn't make this vulnerability any less difficult, but Fenris is determined to move a little further than before, because he trusts her as much as he's able to and he desires to show her that.

Isabela doesn't ask him if he's sure - she knows better. Smiling, she runs her hands solidly up over his shoulders and around the back of his neck. The warmth of her palms soothes him and he kisses her.

A little awkwardly, to be sure. He isn't as experienced with this. The gold nub of her piercing rubs against his chin as she licks against his lips. Fenris makes a chuffing noise deep in his throat that's almost the beginning of a chuckle and circles his arms around her waist to pull her closer.

Heat simmers pleasantly underneath his skin when the kiss drags on; everything in his world is the slow, luxuriant glide of their mouths and Isabela's palms massaging warmth into his shoulders. The constant ache of tension in his back slips away from him and when she rubs this-- _spot_ \-- just under the base of his neck, he groans at the wave of soft pleasure that sweeps down his spine.

Isabela breaks the kiss to feather her lips along his cheek and murmur into his ear. "Let's move to the bed." Her voice is pitched low and playful. Fenris kisses her neck and slides his hands down her back to cup her perfect ass and squeeze.

She pats his shoulder and chuckles out "Impatient boy!", drawing away only to catch at his forearm and drag him towards the bed. The dingy old floor of the mansion creaks with their footsteps and the noise momentarily makes his skin prickle like he's been shocked.

Fenris pushes her down onto the bed. Unexpectedly, she laughs when she bounces a little on the mattress, stretching her arms above her head and arching like a cat. His mouth goes dry at the display.

"This old bed is one of the better ones I've lain in." She remarks, tone languid. Her hands curl into the thick, slightly musty blanket, and she sinks into the soft expanse of it. The look on her face when she glances up at him sparks a flame low in his gut that tightens in a way both slightly uncomfortable and infinitely good.

"I'm glad to share it with you, then." Fenris murmurs, kneeling to begin the arduous process of removing her boots. The leather and metal look beautiful on her, but the buckles tend to _scrape_ , and he wants something to focus on that isn't the strange shivery feeling that's growing in his stomach. The air feels cold against his bare shoulders.

"Oh, sweet thing, it's a bad idea to share with Isabela. She just takes, takes, takes. Before you know it this bed will be all mine and you'll be left sleeping on the floor." Her voice is light and teasing, but Fenris frowns at her words.

"You can give." The right boot slides off of her leg, revealing a dark expanse of skin just waiting to be kissed and licked. There's a small tattoo on her inner thigh that he hadn't noticed before-- an abstract symbol whose meaning he can't discern. "I've seen you do it." He slides his hand down the smooth curves of her leg to enjoy the feel of the fine dark hairs on her skin before he moves on towards the other boot.

"Hm! _Did_ you! And when was this?" Isabela leans on her elbows and stares down at him over the generous curve of her cleavage, eyebrow raised. "I don't recall being something other than artfully self-serving. Look— I'm even delegating all the work to you." She motions down to his busy hands unbuckling her boots.

"These things have too many buckles," he says impatiently, half-agreeing with her, "but." Fenris looks up at her from underneath his brow, smirking a little before he presses his mouth to the skin just above the lip of her boots. He slides his lips up, up, up, to the hem of her tunic, nipping and licking and kissing softly as he sees fit. "You give me—" The faint smell of her sex is enticing, and he brushes aside the tunic to boldly drag his tongue against the dark cloth of her undergarment. "This." He lets his voice rumble against the apex of her thighs and smiles at the ill-conceiled stutter in Isabela's breath.

"I'd say that's all mine, actually," she replies breathily as she rakes a hand through his hair, "but then you might stop what you're doing."

"And you'd be right." Fenris hides his smile against her sex and leans back to finish taking off her boot. The pout she puts on is truly childish. He stares flatly back up at her while he tugs the leather down her leg.

Isabela sighs in exaggerated drama — he can't help but notice how her chest heaves with it — and says, "Well, since I'm _apparently_ such a giver, get up here. Last time, I didn't get to lave you with any attention you so richly deserve." Her voice lilts over 'richly', and it makes something good shiver under his skin even as nerves tingle down his spine.

All he needs to do is join her on top of the bed, really, and Isabela will skillfully smoothe away all of his doubts. Fenris can't— won't... He slips his palms over her legs, knuckles tense, and looks at a spot somewhere next to her knee.

"Hey." Her voice is soft, almost inaudible. "I'm here with you. We'll stop if you don't like it or if you want to stop. You're your own man and you can decide."

A slow exhale. Fenris stands up and hesitates -- it's pinching him again and his chest aches dully. Before he can second guess himself, he slips off the binder, lets it drop to the floor, and folds himself into her waiting arms.


End file.
